Something More
by HpFanficFan
Summary: Harry belongs to Voldemort; a pet, a slave and nothing more. But will a regretable decision on part of the master make him something more? Sweet, happy ending. WARNING: SLASH, slave, dom/sub. LV/HP
1. Part I

**Summary**: Harry belongs to Voldemort; a pet, a slave and nothing more. But will a rash decision the part of the master make him something more?

**Warning: ** explicit sexual content, slavery, dom/sub, slash, language, implied non-con

**EDITED** to maintain M rating. For original fic or MA rated please go to adultfanficton or hpfandom

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**Something More**

**PART I**

I was bad, very bad.

Master is angry, extremely angry.

I am to be punished and it'll be awful.

But I know I deserve it.

I bow my head so deep my chin touches the base of my neck. My shoulders are hunched as I cower from him. He is so frightening when angry; his red eyes gleaming and lips pulled back into a snarl. I bite my lips so hard they start to bleed, and my hands are clenched into fists at my side.

Master screams his displeasure and brings the cane down again and again. I whimper and shiver from the brutal impacts. But I stand upright and still. Tears roll down from my eyes. How could I have been so stupid, so disrespectful and horrid? I had yelled at him, at my master, right in front of the other subordinates and his most trusted advisors. I back-talked him; retorted with a total lack of respect. I had embarrassed him. His Death Eaters had not dared react with anything but stoic disapproval and shock. But I know as well as he did that the Death Eaters would be talking about the incident, quietly and secretly amused by their lord's inability to control his own pet.

I knew that if I were anyone else, he would have Crucioed me, tortured me and then given me to one of his Death Eaters to play with. Perhaps even kill me for my insolence.

But I am not just _anyone_. He has never allowed his Death Eaters to touch me, he has never lend me away, and nor would he ever.

Or so I thought...

ooOo0o0oOoo

It is my fifth day of solitary confinement. Master hasn't come to see me in so long. I sniff as I sit in the corner of my cell; there is cot, but I do not deserve such comfort. The stone floor is hard and cold, the air dry and chilly. I feel so alone, so empty of all emotions but those of guilt, shame and sorrow. I miss him. I long for his arms around me, my head on his chest, his heartbeat in my ears. A lot of people think his body is as cold as his heart. But on the contrary, I dream of his warmth seeping into me, surrounding me like an aura. I yearn for his hands, his lips, his cock, his everything. I miss him.

The house-elves bring food and water every day; Master never denies me food. But the plate sits on the cold stone floor, untouched. I am too upset to eat. Master hates me; he will never forgive me. I let myself cry, but I hardly made a sound. I might be whipped again today, but I welcome the physical pain, if only to take away the mental anguish.

I hate that look in Master's eyes; that frosty look of disapproval, and of anger, and of shame and disappointment.

It took over three weeks to break me and I am well broken. It has been five years since the end of the Order of the Phoenix, five years since the Dark stood victorious and five years as Master's pet. And I love it, I truly do. I crave his touch, his reserved affection, and the poetry he speaks. I am a good pet, or at least I try to be. I know his likes and dislikes. I know his pleasures and pet peeves. I know who and what he is. I obey every order given, listen to every word he says and try to please him the best I can.

His word is law, the law of a god.

He is a good Master. He takes care of me, feeds me well and dresses me warmly. He gives me pleasure and punishes me with care. What more can I ask for? Many of my former friends are not so lucky. Many have died at the hands of their masters, or so near death they have given up. They struggle to live a life that is not worth living. The last time I saw any of them was at the Hogwarts Siege Anniversary celebration. I saw many familiar faces. There was Justin, Colin, Neville, Angelina and Parvati amongst many others. They were emaciated, their bodies withered and covered in bruises and scars.

Very few were taken care of as I was.

I had no idea how lucky I was.

But now I do.

My cell door opens with a creak and tentatively I look up. There stood, lo and behold-a tall man none other than Severus Snape. He is master to Fred and George. I did not see them at the anniversary. I hope they are all right. But truthfully, I do not care much anymore; not for my former friends, not for the Wizading world, and not for the Muggle massacres that occur weekly.

I only care for my Master.

Severus Snape, I always knew the man was Dark, but no, Dumbledore had to trust every bloody individual he met. Severus Snape had been a spy for the Order, but he worked for my Master and his loyalty is to my Master-just like mine.

"Well, well, well. Who should we have here? Isn't it the Boy-Who-Lived?" Snape jeers in his usual cruel tone. But I pay him no mind, it doesn't matter. His opinion is like a spider-web at the corner of basment floor. Either ignore it or brush it away.

"Not so high-and-mighty now are we, you insolent little whelp!" He steps into my cell and stands in front of my small frame. I raise my head and look at him blankly. His cutting remarks no longer have any effect on me and he seems to notice that too, and he does not like it.

He reaches for my hair and pulls my head back with a vicious tug. I yelp at the sudden violent pain. He slaps me hard across the cheek and glares at me with his piercing obsidian eyes.

"You are nothing now, nothing but a slave, a concubine, chattel. How does it feel, Potter? How does it feel to be on the bottom of the food chain?" I do not answer him. What could I say?

"Well wretch! What do you say?"

"Yes sir," I answer impassively. What was he going to do? Why was Snape here anyway? Had Master asked him to administer my punishment today? Snape would be honoured, not to mention ecstatic.

He laughs maniacally; I always thought he was unbalanced. He's changed from my Hogwarts days, or perhaps not. Perhaps this is who he really is. I never trusted him, but even I could not have possibly imagined what a true sadist he is.

The cruel sounds echo off the cell walls, breaching my ears again and again. I hate him like I've never hated anyone in my life. I have a good reason to hate him. My Hogwarts years are the past, and nothing but shadows of memories dwell in the back of my mind. They matter not anymore, but I remember his cruelty to me. He had made it a hobby to make my life as difficult as it can be. He had delighted in humiliating me; laughed at my frustration and thrived on my misery. I still do not understand his hatred for me, for I have done nothing to him.

Am I forever condemned to pay for my father's sins?

I have never seen so much hatred in one man. Not even my Master has this much contempt for me, not any more at least. Why does he hold on to his perpetual belief that I am just like my father? Can he never let go of his unending grudge for something that happened decades ago?

He is a cruel human being and he is irredeemable. Dumbledore once told me that all you have to do is light one single candle and the darkness will fade. Wise words, but perhaps in his world such things do not exist; for he who has lived in darkness all his life, a candle is but an illusion created by the devil.

I do not fear him; I have not feared him for a long time. What I fear is the devil in him; his black heart and cruel eyes; those tunnel-like, ocular orbs resemble a black hole, pulling me into its nothingness, drowning me.

That is what I fear.

My Master stands by the door to witness my punishment, as he always does if he is not the one to administer it. I know a Master must always witness the punishment of his slave; he has said that many times. It was tradition-an ancient Wizarding dictated that a Master should always be present at his slave's punishment or execution. But I know he's here to make sure things do not go out of hand. He cares for me, though he will never admit it.

"Come wretch, pleasure me!" Snape orders and releases my hair, waiting expectantly with his arms crossed. I am nervous. Master has made me pleasure others before, but he had always been right beside me. He'd touch me and stroke my hair, giving me reassurance and praising me. He has never left me alone with his Death Eaters, expecting me to please them. At my hesitation, Snape sneers a vicious grin and brings his hand across my cheek again. I fall down but immediately straighten myself.

"Well! What are you waiting for, slave? Hurry up!"

I do not need to be told again; I crawl forward and kneel before him. This is nothing I haven't done before, of course. But still, the thought of pleasuring this man, this man who I've always hated with a passion. It was revolting and if I had a choice, I would bit him.

But I could do nothing but take it.

No! I scream silently. I am yours, Master, yours always and yours only. Every time we bed you make me say it, you make me say those words. _Yours. _And then you would return _Mine _in that growl that no one dares deny.

_Mine._That word means so much to me.

What has happened? What have I done?

I feel _his_ hands on me. I hate it.

"Master," I whispered in defeat. I close my eyes and drop my head. I let myself go completely, giving up to the emotions that run through me. I cry and I sob, and scream at the pain. But if this is my punishment then I will have to endure it, no matter what.

"ENOUGH!" comes a sharp cry. I hear the sound of footfall coming closer. All of a sudden, Snape is thrown away from me and I find myself in a tight embrace.

My master has come for me.

I just fall limply into his arms, crying pitifully. He holds me tightly against his chest. I do not embrace back. Nor do I snuggle up to him like I always have. But I smile; I haven't done so in a week. I give a content sigh and let the darkness close in. Master says he is sorry, so sorry.

My master has never apologized to anyone before, no one...


	2. Part II

**Something More**

**PART II**

I wake up in a familiar place.

No, not in the cell.

But in Master's room, on Master's bed, with him beside me. I am curled up like a cat against his chest. Facing him. I feel warm air on the back of my neck as he breaths. The soft beige comforter covers both of us. Underneath, I feel his arms around me, holding me possessively but gently, not like a pet, or a slave, or a toy, but like...a lover.

"Good morning," he says.

"Good morning, Master," I return softly.

"We've been together for a while."

"Yes, Master. Five years." I am confused. What did he mean by that? Did he not want me anymore? Oh, please no. Don't send me away. I could not live without him.

"You should call me Tom," he says suddenly.

I freeze. What? Call him Tom? I thought he hated that _filthy muggle name_. The last time I had accidentally called him Tom, he had given me a heavy belting for disrespect.

He must have sensed my distress because he chuckles and says. "Don't worry Pet." Master runs his hands up and down my back in gentle strokes, "I wish you to call me Tom"

My stomach tightens, and from my vocal cords I draw, "T...Tom." What could I do, refuse? It was an order, wasn't it?

_Tom _is a common and ordinary name, but my Master is anything but ordinary and everything extraordinary. No wonder he does not like the name. Now Voldemort, that is a name to suit. But "Tom" sounded surprisingly good as it drifted from my tongue. "Tom," I stutter out again. This seems to please him. "Good boy. Such a good boy," he praises, moving his hands to stroke my head. I purr at the sensation and snuggle closer.

Tom, Thomas, is a nice name after all.

I wonder what he will do if I ever call him _Tommy._

Better not.

"I'm sorry," he says. His once coarse, hard and icy voice is now soft and reassuring. He pulls me close and puts his chin above my head. "I love you."

"I love you Mas..." I had almost called him master; it came so easily. For five years, the words have come naturally after every sentence. It had become a reflex, an instinct, a habit that was never meant to die. "...Tom."

But die it did.

"Mine."

"Yours." I said instinctively, without thinking.

"Never again Pet, never again." I am not obtuse. I knew what he meant. He did not mean the whippings or canings. He meant the solitary confinement. I think he had a hard time being away from me. He just won't admit it. I can't stand being away from him. And vice versa.

But more than anything else, he meant Snape. He would never allow such a thing again. He would never allow another to take me, for as long as I live. I have it now, the things I longed for when I was in my cell. His arms around me, his rhythmic heartbeat in my ear, his warmness like an aura, banishing away all the darkness from my life. It seems that I have something more as well; I have his love, his heart.

He is mine.

He kisses me tenderly on the lips and wipes away my tears. "Never again Harry, never again."

_Harry._ He has never called me Harry before...

-finis-

Keep my heart, hold it tight.

Don't let go, embrace its light.

Love me back and all is right.

My life is yours, your life is mine.


End file.
